


two weeks

by grassangel



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural, Tithe Series - Holly Black
Genre: Alternate Universe - Good Omens Fusion, Cameos, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Gen, Inspired by Music, Radio, Stealth Crossover, borrowed world mechanics, not by Aziraphale and Crowley unfortunately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grassangel/pseuds/grassangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Large cities with extensive public transport systems are not kind to older and larger cars. After almost three weeks of not being driven, the tapes in the Impala have... <em>changed</em> a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two weeks

**Author's Note:**

> The Supernatural components of this fic have been written through osmosis, crossover fic and watching a grand total of three episodes. As such I apologise for any inconsistent characterisation. Eternal thanks to equalseleventhirds for putting up with my questions and helping with characterisation.
> 
> Song inspiration is this [mashup](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LrL5zSlW_s) of AC/DC's Back in Black, Queen's We Will Rock You and others.

After the first day criss-crossing the city tracking down Luis’ contacts, frustrated equally by their unhelpful answers and having to wait outside half the time, Dean admits driving the Impala around is all but impossible. He complains to Luis that night, cups of espresso and reference books covering the table, and gets a broad grin back.

“You're in the city now, better get used to it,” he shrugs and then nods toward the back of the coffee shop. “You can park out back. I’ll get a glamour put over it.”

And that's the creepy thing about this hunt. They’re working with fey.  
Not directly of course and there’s no way you’d find either Dean or Sam going under a hill, but all the magic and weird shit makes him want to break out the iron chain and the instant oatmeal sachets.

He edges it out the back the next morning though, after Val stomps in and flicks onto Dean and Sam’s table two 7-day passes and tells them how to renew them.

The glamour works, no graffiti or even pigeon shit on her, but it's almost three long weeks before he can sit behind the wheel of his baby and drive. Sam's had to dig around in the trunk for weapons and he's tinkered under her hood while they were waiting for their Court contact to get back to them, though none of that is quite the same slipping onto her leather seat, turning the key and hearing the engine rumble.

They roll out to the front of the cafe to wave goodbye to Luis, Corny and Val, and Dean even manages to not flip off the troll standing behind her, but it's a sigh of relief when they pull onto a highway out of the city. Dean only switches on the radio then, some piddly hipster crap coming out because the city has fifty radio stations and none of them are decent.

"Stupid shit city music," Dean grumbles as he rummages for a tape. Sam ignores him, rolling his eyes and continues reading one of the books Luis gave him as Dean finds one. The music starts playing as they overtake another car and it feels good to be back in the Impala.

Heavy drums and guitar riffs fill the car for a few minutes before switching to something with more vocals than guitars, neither brother paying much attention as the songs keep playing: Sam has a highlighter out and Dean is idly tapping his fingers as they drive out of the city and into the suburbs and surrounding areas.

The tape continues playing for several more tracks, is paused at one point for Sam to take a call from some kid and his sister in Oregon and clicks over once before either of them notice anything is amiss.

"Hey, Dean? What's on this tape?"  
Sam gets a glare for his trouble before being answered.  
"Only the best music Sammy. You know the house rules anyway. Driver picks the music. You can use your fancy adapter if I need a rest." Out of spite Dean turns the volume up just a bit higher, enough to dissuade a response and to remind Sam exactly who is driving.

The matter is then settled for the moment, though Sam shifts in his seat and Dean keeps shooting annoyed glances as he starts piling the tapes scattered on the floor, under the seat and on the dash into some sort of order. There's around six of them and Sammy's even matching up the stickers to the little paper inserts in the cases though there are only four cases and he's pretty sure there's no Handel's Water Music in his cassette collection. It only keeps Sam occupied for a few miles though before he's back to his book and highlighter, tapping the pen against his thigh.

"Dude, that's seriously irritating. I know you don't like my music, but you could be less bitchy about it Sammy," he snaps as the road starts going through some kind of forest.

"Dean. This is AC/DC's We Will Rock You," Sam says over the bass in a familiar rhythm but with completely the wrong lyrics.

It takes a moment, his attention already divided between the road in front and giving the stinkeye to Sammy, but his knuckles tighten as he pulls the car over into the trees as Dean actually pays attention the vocals.  
"Fucking fairies! Knew we couldn't trust their magic!" Sam's neat pile of tapes goes flying sideways as he furiously turns the car around.

"Calm down, maybe Val was just playing a prank on us, slipped a couple of Queen tapes into the car after you made that comment about Corny." Sam's sounding alarmed at his reaction rather than the fact someone has been messing with his music that was stored in his baby while they were hunting down a rogue pack of fairies.  
"There are six other tapes here, I'm sure they can't all be the same. Besides," Sam says, nodding in the direction they had been heading, "a few dudes have been drowned in a lake an hour and a half away. It seems like a rusalka or some witches. We should probably check it out and we don't have the time to go back. "

He's got a point: they had left late after brunch and while Dean can't stand how soppy he is with Luis, Corny's cinnamon rolls are delicious and were worth staying for even if they are named after a fucking Sanrio character. There really isn't enough time to go back and to go check out the lake and the drownings before it gets dark.

"Fine. But you're in charge of finding a tape that hasn't been fucked up with magic. And," Dean says as he turns the car back to the direction they were heading in, "no funny business." He gives a final glare before pulling back onto the road.

Sam looks suitably cowed as he holds his hands up in the air, away from his lap. "House rules, I know," he says before reaching over to eject the current tape and replace it with one from the former pile.

They go through four tapes and two variations of Bohemian Rhapsody, the latest version covered by Queens of the Stoneage, before Dean interrupts. "Just grab a tape from the end of my duffle. Those can't have been messed up while my baby was alone."

His brother obliges, half climbing over his seat to reach for it before triumphantly handing it over. Killer Rock vol. 6 ("Where do you even get these tapes?") is ejected and replaced by the new tape, label worn off enough that only an impression of dark denim blue is left.

The sounds of a piano start playing through the car's speakers and Freddie Mercury singing "Don't stop me now" before they both realise it's a song actually played by Queen. Sam reaches over to eject the tape and try again, but Dean slaps his hand away from the radio. "Just leave it in. We'll just have to get some new tapes at a gas station."

"Do they even sell tapes at gas stations anymore?" Sam sounds sceptical, but does end up sitting back, highlighter finding its way back into his hand.

Dean raises his eyebrows at Sam, "I sure hope they do, because you are not putting your stupid-ass banjo strumming on. At least Queen's kind of rock. And a little bit of a good time," he smirks as Freddie Mercury echoes him on the stereo. His brother doesn't reply, sinking down into his seat and picking up his book again in lieu of response.

They drive on, the scenery outside the Impala starting to become spotted with more and more ponds, and Dean decides not to tell his brother that three of the tapes in his duffel were actually Queen's Greatest Hits anyway. Apparently freaky shit happens when his baby is left alone for a fortnight though, and at the next gas station, while Sam's seeing if they sell cassette tapes, he pets the Impala and promises not to leave her alone like that again.  
If his baby purrs louder when they start up again, well she's got a full tank and Rockin' Rock And Heavy Metal tape 1 of 4 in her stereo.

**Author's Note:**

> Oatmeal is a traditional faerie warding when carried on a person or sprinkled on their clothes.
> 
> A Rusalka is a Slavic revenge spirit, usually female, who lures men into bodies of water to enact revenge for their spurned feelings. Their M.O. seems to fall within what witches on Supernatural usually do and have a few similarities with other water spirits like kappa and selkie, which should make it a fun hunt for the brothers.
> 
> Don't Stop Me Now is, on the 1992 US release of Queen's Greatest Hits, between Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy and Save Me. On the 1981 UK release, or the release Aziraphale and Crowley would be familiar with, it would've been between You're My Best Friend and Save Me. (Followed by Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Somebody to Love, Now I'm Here and Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy. It's really easy to ship what you may based on where Dean stopped this tape.) I prefer to think Dean has somehow gotten his hands on a reprint of the UK release.
> 
> And congrats if you can name the kids that called the brothers.


End file.
